Blending Colors
by willshakespeare-immortalbard
Summary: A Hermione/Ernie fic. Follows the emotions of Hermione Granger through her fifth, sixth, and seventh years of school as she leaves her childish crush on Viktor Krum behind and falls for someone else. Rated K . Please read/review.
1. House Colors

**A/N—I've always been a firm believer that Ernie Macmillan and Hermione Granger should have gotten together. They were both incredibly studious, and ambitious, and it sounds like they spent a lot of time together in classes—in third year Ron asked Ernie about Hermione's class schedule. So here's a story about them. It spans from 5****th**** year through 7****th****, so it'll be pretty long. **

**Please read/review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. J.K Rowling owns **_**Harry Potter**_** and all the characters and places. **

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><p>"This way," Hermione said, steering Ron down the train corridor. "The prefect compartment is at the end of the train."<p>

"How do you know that?" Ron demanded, dragging his feet as he looked into each compartment they passed, trying to eavesdrop on the conversations of the inhabitants.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It says so in our letters, Ronald." It had been there, in black and white. How he could have missed it—she wouldn't say it surprised her. She'd learned by now that Ron missed things that were right beneath his nose. But it exasperated her. Immensely.

The compartment door was closed, and it seemed determined to stay so. Ron and Hermione both tugged, and finally Ron knocked, when even Hermione's frustrated _Alohomora_ failed to bring results. The door slid aside, and pretty, blond Hannah Abbot stepped aside to let them in.

"—they just went well together," she was saying, and she sighed heavily as she closed the door and her companion replied,

"Really, Hannah, Hogwarts is better than that. It's obvious, really, that they're symbolic of—"

Ernie was standing by a window, gesticulating wildly, sending his—unless it was Hannah's—vibrant yellow and black scarf whipping at the glass.

"No, I don't think so," Hannah said. "I think that the founders all decided that the colors went well together, and they chose to make those the house colors."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked scornfully, shoving a Cauldron Cake into his mouth, and then turning to Hermione, proclaiming that "being a prefect had its perks".

Hannah (the beauty of Hufflepuff; tall, slim, with long, slightly curly blond hair and grey eyes) explained, "Ernie thinks that the house colors, you know, red, blue, green, and yellow, were chosen for symbolic reasons."

"Exactly," Ernie affirmed.

"I think that they just look nice," Hannah finished.

Ron moaned, but Hermione found her interest piqued. She'd always thought that the Hufflepuffs were a little deeper than most thought, and the conversation that Hannah and Ernie were holding proved it...a little. Hannah's view was rather banal, but Ernie's was quite complex, it seemed.

Ernie, who was happy to see that he might have a prospective ally in Hermione, turned to her, continuing to explain his idea. "_I _think that...well, actually, let me start this differently. Which two houses are the best known?"

"Gryffindor and Slytherin," Hermione answered promptly.

"Yes. And what are their colors?"

"Red and Green."

"More specifically, red and yellow, and green and silver (which looks rather like blue, don't you think?)"

Hermione nodded, but Ernie was already plowing ahead.

"Yellow and silver/blue are the colors of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. My theory, Hermione, is that the house colors of Gryffindor and Slytherin were chosen in order to integrate the lesser known house of Hogwarts, in accordance with the specific trait of each house. I mean, like this: Gryffindor is known for bravery. Hufflepuff is known for loyalty, which is a trait that requires bravery to possess. Slytherin is known for ambition, while Ravenclaw is known for cleverness. You rarely find a clever person who isn't ambitious, and vice versa. So I'm saying that—"

"That the colors are symbolic of the similarity of the houses," Hermione finished.

Ernie smiled broadly. "Yes! You see, Hannah..."

Hannah and Ron were currently in a discussion about Quidditch. Ernie sighed.

"She doesn't care, really."

"It was an interesting theory, Ernie. Very, very insightful."

"Thanks, Hermione. Hey, you still taking the same classes as last year?"

Hermione nodded again. "Yes."

"Good. Oh! Congratulations on becoming a prefect."

"You too."

The door opened, letting in the other prefects, old and new, and Hermione and Ernie's conversation ended.

When Hermione left with Ron to return to Harry, she wondered why Ernie's parting _"Hope to talk with you soon, Hermione!"_ had made her heart beat faster.


	2. Breakfast Confessions

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. J.K Rowling owns **_**Harry Potter**_** and all the characters and places. **

The morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_ blared the unhappy headline **GIANT PROBLEMS FOR THE MINISTRY. **Hermione bit her lip as she read the article, written by one...scanning down to the bottom of the page, she saw a name she didn't recognize, and hopped back up to the actual article, which detailed rising dangers with the giants in the mountains. Apparently they firmly believed Harry's claim that You-Know-Who was back, but they sided with the Dark Lord, not Harry.

"Hey." Ernie slid into a seat next to hear, squeezing in by Ginny, who obliging scooted down along the bench. "Terrible, isn't it?"

Hermione looked up, and vaguely asked herself why she felt her cheeks growing warm.

She hadn't even realized it last night, but Ernie was rather good-looking. The chubby boy from second and third year was gone, replaced by a tall, somewhat muscular, yet still thin, young man with wavy, dark blond hair and happy brown eyes. He was also incredibly smart, and kind and—

"Isn't it?" Ernie asked, motioning towards the paper. Hermione wrenched herself from her mental list of Ernie's attributes and nodded.

"Yes, it is."

"It's terrible about Harry too. How everyone's acting. He's not a liar. I know that, for sure. You-Know-Who is back, and he killed Cedric..." Ernie's voice faltered for a minute, and Hermione got a sudden influx of images of Cedric. She realized that in all of them, Ernie was in the background.

"...and the world ought to believe Harry and Dumbledore."

"You believe Harry?" Hermione asked.

Ernie nodded vehemently. "Yes. I do. My whole family does. But don't tell him I said so. I'd rather tell him myself. I think that after the way I acted in second and fourth year, I owe him a personal, _public_ explanation. I mean, I insulted him and gossiped about him in public, so I'm going to defend him in public." Ernie's brown eyes were determined.

It was all Hermione could do to nod.

"Well," Ernie said, "I'd better get going. I've got Potions first thing. But I'll see you at Herbology today, right?"

He was gone before she could get over her admiration of his thoughts to answer.


	3. Starting to Matter?

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. J.K Rowling owns **_**Harry Potter**_** and all the characters and places. **

**Many thanks to RonWeasleyILove, who reviewed, and wanted Ernie's POV! This chapter is for you, RonWeasley! :) Thanks for your review!**

The hardest part of standing up for Harry actually turned out to be ignoring the brimming look of pride and admiration in Hermione Granger's eyes. He didn't know why. She wasn't nearly as pretty as Hannah—or Susan even—and she was incredibly bossy and presumptuous and...and...it didn't change the fact that his defense of Harry wouldn't really have been worth it, except for her approval. He wondered why his stomach seemed so unsettled. He wanted to say that it was because of that mash-up of _something_ that the house elves had served—was Hermione still going on about SPEW?—but couldn't, as the only time his stomach chose to act up on him was when he thought about Hermione. Especially the look in her eyes after Herbology...

"You were so brave, Ernie," Hannah practically cooed as they walked back up to the castle. "I couldn't have done it, standing up in front of all those people and saying that I thought differently."

Ernie wasn't listening. He stared hard at the ground, memorizing every pebble, every patch of moss, just trying to erase the image of Hermione from his retina. She really wasn't that bad-looking. She lacked Hannah's blond charm, but she had a beauty of her own, especially since she'd shrunk her front teeth last year—and an image of Hermione the night of the Yule Ball made his stomach knot again. She'd been quite pretty—no, incredibly pretty—that night, and Ron Weasley wasn't the only one who'd seriously envied Viktor Krum. Ernie had a feeling that most of the boys who hadn't gone with a Beauxbaton's girl had. Even he had been a little envious. But not nearly as much as he was now. Now, he'd give a lot to have been the guy who asked her...

"—and I'm just so nervous about OWLs," Hannah wailed suddenly, dropping her bag onto the ground and burying her face in her hands. She sniffled softly.

"Me too," Ernie muttered abstractedly, as he continued walking. He tripped slightly over a stone, drawing a weak giggle from Hannah, and he found himself stupidly grateful that Hermione Granger, who was walking farther ahead, hadn't seen. Not that it mattered.

To anyone else, at least. For whatever reason, all of a sudden to _him_ it mattered immensely.


	4. From Model to Rebel

**A/N—I've always been a firm believer that Ernie Macmillan and Hermione Granger should have gotten together. They were both incredibly studious, and ambitious, and it sounds like they spent a lot of time together in classes—in third year Ron asked Ernie about Hermione's class schedule. So here's a story about them. It spans from 5****th**** year through 7****th****, so it'll be pretty long. **

**Please read/review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. J.K Rowling owns **_**Harry Potter**_** and all the characters and places. **

**This chapter is for Witty Eagle Proud Ravenclaw, and for RonWeasleyILove. Both of them kindly reviewed this piece. Thanks so much you guys!**

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><p>The Library was quiet. And, apparently, empty. Hermione smiled. Perfect.<p>

Plunking her bag on a table, she pulled out her books and set to work.

"D'you mind?"

Looking up, trying to ignore the sudden butterflies in her stomach, she saw Ernie Macmillan standing before her, his bag on his shoulder.

"D'you mind if I sit here?" he asked again.

"No, not at all," she said, sliding her work to one corner of the table and making room. "I was just working on Umbridge's essay"

Ernie stiffened.

"She's terrible! I don't know what she told you in her class, but in our class..." he bit his lip, his brown eyes dark with anger. "Rant after rant about inadequate teachers—and I'll admit that I rather agreed with her till she started in on Professor Lupin—"

"She did that with us too."

"—and then things got bad. You'd think she'd leave off on the topic, but no, on and on and on about werewolves being monsters. Zacharias tried to speak up, and she nailed him with a detention before he even got to tell her she was a total—"

"Language, Mr. Macmillan," Madam Pince admonished as she whisked by with a stack of books.

"She gave Harry detention too," Hermione told Ernie.

"I heard. And all for standing up for him and for...for Cedric. She's just—" Ernie hissed, sucking in the swear word he had been about to utter. He yanked his Defense Against the Dark Arts book from his bag and tore it open, slamming it on the table. He didn't even look up when Madam Pince shushed him from the main desk.

Hermione watched him, feeling even more in awe of him than she had when he had stood up for Harry after Herbology.

"We're going to fail our OWLS with her," Ernie muttered after a pause. "She won't teach us a _thing_."

She nodded.

"If only we had someone who'd actually teach us something."

Hermione nodded again, and suddenly grabbed Ernie's arm.

"I need to ask you something," she blurted, and then lowered her voice. "If I were to get a—oh, not here, not with Madam Pince. Come with me." She stood and, leaving her homework on the table, hurried from the Library. She could hear Ernie behind her, shoving books and parchment into his bag.

"What?" he asked as she dragged him into a classroom and scanned the place for any ghosts. Peeves was nowhere to be seen, nor were any other ghosts.

"If I were to find a teacher who could actually teach us some Defense Against the Dark Arts—"

Ernie paled, his freckles—Hermione hadn't known he_ had_ freckles—standing out. "Hermione, I wasn't serious. Well, I was serious, but I wasn't suggesting anything."

"I know, but...Ernie, our OWLs are incredibly important. You know that."

Ernie nodded.

"Umbridge won't teach us anything. But if I can find someone who _can_ teach us, would you—" she trailed off, unable to formulate her words.

Ernie was silent. He sat down on the top of one of the desks and swept his foot back and forth across the floor, kicking up dust and scraping the sole of his shoe on the stone. He fingered his Prefect's badge and bit his lip again, just like he had in the Library.

"Okay," he said. "I know what you're trying to say. We need to start our own...our own little class. And I'll do it. If you find a teacher we can trust who will teach us something worthwhile, I'll do it."

Hermione smiled.

Ernie stood up and picked up his bag from the door. He was still pale, though he looked more determined. "So go find your teacher, Hermione, and let me know when you do."

He headed for the door, and suddenly turned.

"By the way, are you still doing SPEW?"

"I guess. It didn't really kick off last year." Hermione sighed.

"Try again this year. Do you have a badge?"

Hermione nodded and pulled one from her bag. Ernie took it from her and pinned in on his robes, by his Prefect's badge.

"I'll see if I can't rope Hannah and Susan into it."

Hermione was left alone in the classroom, turning their plan around in her mind, wondering how she could convince Harry that if he could just teach them, they might actually stand a chance of surviving.


	5. Room to Room

**A/N—Thanks to all who have reviewed/alerted/favorited. It means so much to me! **

**Please read/review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. J.K Rowling owns **_**Harry Potter**_** and all the characters and places. **

Ernie sank onto his bed, unpinning the SPEW badge from his robes. He held the small badge in his hand, looking at it closely. It was unadorned, the only words on it "SPEW—the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare" written on it—magically probably—in small, cramped script. Ernie smiled, imagining Hermione sitting at a table, waving her wand over the badge, and he pinned it back on his robes.

"What's that?" Justin Finch-Fletchley asked as he walked in, pointing to the badge.

"SPEW badge," Ernie murmured absently.

"That group Granger was going on about last year? That she made because of the way Crouch treated his house elf? I thought you didn't care for it?"

"Changed my mind..." Ernie said softly, still fingering the badge. He focused on the thought of SPEW, trying not to remember the idea Hermione had set forward that evening.

Justin tossed himself onto his own bed, and lay there watching Ernie, grinning broadly.

"Get any studying done?" he asked. "Because if you did I'd appreciate your findings—that paper from Snape isn't going to write itself."

Ernie looked at Justin disdainfully. "Have you been spending time with Ron Weasley?"

Justin laughed. "No. I was just kidding."

Ernie looked away.

"Are you going to be this grumpy every night? Because if so, I'm applying for a dorm switch."

"I'm not grumpy," Ernie argued. "Just thinking."

"'Bout what?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Ernie muttered.

Justin moaned, and launched on a full-scale rant about Umbridge. Ernie took advantage of Justin's distraction to slip out of the dorm and downstairs.

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><p>Hannah scoffed when she saw the badge on his chest.<p>

"Did Hermione Granger finally bug you up the wall?" she asked.

"She didn't bug me."

"Why are you wearing a badge, then?"

"I decided to join. I mean,"—Ernie sat down by the warm fire—"Crouch did treat that house elf pretty cruelly last year. And I thought about it some over the summer."

"You spent your summer thinking about _SPEW_?" Hannah asked in horror.

"Not all the time, just...I decided that maybe I could help Hermione out."

Hannah sighed, and sat down on the floor by his feet, looking up at him.

"You're so noble," she said, fluttering her eyelashes. Ernie shifted.

"No, not really."

Susan Bones and Zacharias Smith both erupted into laughter at the look on Hannah's face as she tried to figure out how to compliment Ernie this time. Susan suggested telling him that he was so modest too, but Ernie cut Hannah off and said,

"Nobility's for Gryffindors."

He left the Common Room, and ended up just going back to the Library. Hermione wasn't there, though she'd left her books lying out over the table that they'd both abandoned, so he had a feeling that she was simply lurking around the Library. But he didn't go search for her.

Burying his head in his hands, he tried to sort through everything that had happened that evening. He'd just wanted to study, that was all. He hadn't thought about the fact that Hermione would, of course, want to do the same. He'd asked her if he could sit by her before he'd thought through why, which had been a mistake. He wished that he hadn't spoken so much—he'd given her ideas.

Ernie moaned, and pushed his chair out from the table. He stared at the table top, at Hermione's work, for what felt like forever, burning the image of her handwriting into his retina, testing every once in a while, by closing his eyes, to see if the image was actually there.

"The dorms' not good for studying?"

He looked up blearily at Hermione, and shook his head.

"I know. That's why I always go here."

Ernie nodded, returning his gaze to the table.

Hermione gathered up her books and shoved them back in her bag.

"See you tomorrow," she murmured, and left before Ernie could ground his thoughts enough to formulate a response.

He waited until he was certain that he wouldn't bump into her on his way back to the Common Room, and then left the Library again, still without having finished a bit of work.


End file.
